


An Uneasy Compromise

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, Kid Fic, M/M, Nazis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-11-05
Updated: 2011-11-05
Packaged: 2017-10-25 17:49:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/273070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Charles decides that he's willing to overlook Erik's habit of killing Nazis. Surely the life they’d built over the past few years was worth brushing a few Nazis under the rug.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Uneasy Compromise

**Author's Note:**

> Kink Meme Prompt: "Charles knows all about Erik's hobby of nazi-killing. What he doesn't get and finds quite adorable is every time Erik comes back he's making cooing and playing peekaboo with their child/young mutant they took in."

Charles never slept much when Erik was away. It’s not that he missed him – but then, of course he missed him, missed the weight and warmth of his body next to him and the way Erik’s arm found its way around his waist almost every night. But he didn’t ever really miss him the way other people miss their partners. Their telepathic bond was too close. He always felt Erik’s presence in his mind, and even if Erik was on the other side of the world, Charles could still feel him and what sort of mood he was in and where he was and what he was up to. And if Erik’s emotions were strong enough and the situation was intense enough, Charles couldn’t block him out if he tried.

Like, for example, when Charles was just about to drift off to sleep, and from unseen events on the other side of the world, he’d become flushed with rage and adrenaline and victory and there would be screaming – usually in German, but the meaning was clear enough – and blood and noise and the thump of Erik’s heart, and then relief and pride and swagger. 

To the surprise of both of them, Charles actually asked Erik to put on that terrible helmet when he executed these men, these former Nazis, but Erik had refused. He wanted them to see his face, and anyway the helmet would be too conspicuous. Charles pleaded with Erik to please, just shoot them or pull something heavy and metal down on their heads from across the street - anything. There were millions of ways Erik could use his power to make the Nazis’ deaths look like accidents, and then Erik would be in no danger of getting caught and Charles would be in no danger of waking up in a secondhand breathless rage. Again, Erik refused. Those men didn’t deserve to die in an accident. They needed to know what was happening to them, and Erik needed to watch the horror and shame creep over their faces before they met their demise.

Horror and shame: not all that dissimilar to Charles’ reaction to Erik’s Nazi hunting excursions. Erik knew that Charles disapproved, but it was a central tenet to their peace negotiations. Or, rather, what looked like Brotherhood/X-Men peace negotiations to everyone else; to them it was more like they had The Talk. They may have joined forces, but they would never fully agree on anything, and Erik’s personal, unofficial side missions were not up for debate. It was a hard-fought aspect of their peace: as long as Erik’s trips did not interfere with official business and endangered no one but himself (and the Nazis in question), Charles would not stop him.

Charles was occasionally disgusted with himself for agreeing to such barbarism. It was hard to argue about it with Erik, though. “Are you defending Nazis, Charles? Do you really think killing Nazis is a bad thing to do?” When Charles tried to argue the sanctity of life and forgiveness and being the better man, Erik projected his memories of the camps. Charles even tried the “ordinary men following orders” argument a few times, and every time he did things got ugly fast. Perhaps someday Charles would find a way to stop Erik from doing it, or better yet, maybe someday Erik would see the error of his ways. In the meantime, Charles pushed it out of his mind as best he could, and accepted it as the price he paid for Erik.

Surely the life they’d built over the past few years was worth brushing a few Nazis under the rug. Their combined power and resources had resulted in incredible advances for their people. Charles Xavier’s respect and influence gave Erik Lehnsherr’s (formerly Magneto’s) actions some credibility. And in turn, the former Brotherhood’s actions gave the esteemed Professor Xavier’s words urgency and application, moving them beyond academics and into the newspapers. In a few short years, the Brotherhood went from terrorists to activists, and graduates of the Xavier Institute had gained a reputation as the world’s leading minds. The school was an unprecedented success.

It was also their home. They lived in the old master bedroom and claimed the entire wing as their own. The Lehnsherr Wing, as they called it (“The whole damned place is Xavier already!”), was filling up quickly. First Charles lived there on his own. Then there was Charles’ dog, given to him as a gift during his recovery. He named it Charles Junior, which Charles thought was hilarious. No one else did. Then Erik finally moved back in and their four years apart melted away.

Then, a few years later, Aurelia. She’d come to them through the police after her parents, thinking she was possessed, tried to strangle her. She was only about two years old and learning to speak, and how could a baby say the things she said? How could she understand? How could she hear their thoughts? How did she read their minds? And why did she have yellow eyes? Charles took one look at her and shattered. He scooped her into his lap and refused to let go. She was their daughter and Charles’ heir and Erik’s shining light. And how could Charles be hung up on Nazis when he saw Erik look at Aurelia like that?

Erik would walk in the door and Aurelia, four years old now, would scream “Daddy!” and run for him, and Erik would pick her up and toss her in the air and tickle her and squeeze her so tight she’d complain, and he would just beam at her – it melted Charles the way he smiled at her. And Aurelia might ask what that dark red spot is on his shirt, and he would tell her it was ketchup because he ate a hot dog, but what he really wanted for lunch was belly, and proceed to blow raspberries into her tummy until she squealed with laughter and her golden eyes flashed and even Charles couldn’t contain himself.

It was enough to make Charles forget about the flashes of SS entrails from the night before. Enough to make the filleted former soldiers almost worth it.


End file.
